


the world is watching

by spraycansoul



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Jack is thirsty, M/M, Vlogger Bitty, super light angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 21:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8770591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spraycansoul/pseuds/spraycansoul
Summary: Or: five times Jack Zimmermann accidentally interrupted a vlog, and one time it was deliberate





	

**Author's Note:**

> idk it's my birthday and this has been in my notes for the past month and i figured it was time. i hope you enjoy, concrit is always welcome in the comments!
> 
> the title is from the song of the same name by two door cinema club

The Haus was completely empty—if not for Bitty, who was baking up a storm in the kitchen.

Ransom was drowning in chemical equations in the library, Holster no doubt next to him, maybe marathoning One Tree Hill, Lardo and Shitty probably out on a soapbox preaching the evils of the stigma against powerful women, the frogs most likely out terrorizing the lax bros across the street, and Jack… well, Bitty didn’t really know where Jack was. Probably in class or at Faber.

This was all well and good for Bitty, though, because he was currently going through the ultimate chocolate chip cookie recipe for his vlog and he really appreciated the peace and quiet. He had not been able to do this for a while, and it’s not very often that he gets the Haus all to himself, so he was going to take advantage of it. His camera (which he only ever used for filming in the kitchen) was set up on a tripod by the door, just far enough to get most of the ingredients and tools on the center island to fit inside the shot. Bitty took one last look at his set up, took a deep breath, and sent up a prayer to whatever god was listening that this vlog would go uninterrupted.

He was maybe a quarter through the recipe when he heard the front door click closed, followed by the sound of light footsteps. Against his better judgement, he continued to talk.

“Okay, so once your butter and sugar are nice and creamy, y’all are gonna wanna add two large eggs plus one extra egg yolk slowly, one at a time so that you don’t—” 

“Bittle?” Jack poked his head in the doorway, looking a little winded. Bitty was sure he’d have to edit this out later, on account of the fact that Jack’s head was probably taking up two-thirds of the shot. “I—Sorry, can you, uh, hand me a Gatorade?”

Bitty sighed, finishing up with the eggs before reaching for a hand towel to clean his hands. “Have a good run?” he asked Jack, who had proceeded to lean on the doorframe, wiping the sweat off of his face with the hem of his shirt. Bitty turned around from the refrigerator, Gatorade in hand, just in time to catch a glimpse of Jack’s toned core, only vaguely registering Jack’s nod as answer to his question. He felt the blood rushing up to his ears and cheeks, his neck frozen mid-crane.

When he realized what was happening, Bitty blinked quickly and shook his head before he could get caught staring. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen it all before—and _Lordie_ , had he ever. He gripped the bottle a little tighter before clearing his throat. “Here ya are,” he said casually, tossing him the bottle of blue Gatorade. “Now, shoo, I’m trying to shoot a video!”

Jack caught the bottle easily and flashed him a small smile. “Thanks, Bittle. Don’t burn the house down, eh? We’ve got practice at 4,” he said as he left.

Bitty huffed indignantly. “What do you take me for, Mr. Zimmermann? An _amateur_?” he shouted in answer, just loud enough for Jack to hear him. 

No one else bothered him for the duration of the video, but later, while editing, Bitty realized he forgot to record a transition for the cut before Jack interrupted. He decided to leave it in to spare the trouble of filming again, and prayed that nobody notices the split-second freeze he did when he turned to look at Jack.

* * *

Bitty was in the middle of a live Q&A that he’d been streaming on his channel, his laptop propped up on his desk, his back resting on the back of his swivel chair, happily informing a clueless viewer (bless their heart) about the differences between pies, tarts, and cobblers, and crumbles, when he heard a knock on his door.

Two rasps, quickly. _Jack._

“Sorry, y’all, be right back!” Bitty said brightly before his feet pushed off the floor to turn his chair and he scooted towards the door, opening it.

“Bittle. Have you finished your—” Jack’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of Bitty's laptop with the webcam app open before looking back down at Bitty. “Sorry, were you busy? I-um, sorry, I’ll come back later,” he said sheepishly, already moving to close the door.

Bitty wedged his foot in between the door and its frame before Jack could close it, propping it open slightly. He may have been in the middle of a very heated explanation, but his stupid, god-forsaken crush on his captain was not to be denied, apparently. He noticed Jack look down at his foot before slowly moving back up to meet his eyes. “No, it’s alright!” he insisted, smiling warmly up at Jack. “What did you need?”

Jack glanced at the laptop before proceeding to look back at Bitty, still sitting on his swivel chair and looking up expectantly at him. “I was just going to ask to see your paper? For Atley? I’m not sure I really understood the reading correctly.”

Bitty raised an eyebrow, but held up a finger in response. “I’m kind of in the middle of something, but gimme a sec,” he said to Jack, sliding back over to his desk. He shot an apologetic look at his webcam and shuffled a few papers on his right until he found the one he was looking for. He glided his way to the door, paper in hand, grinning triumphantly. 

Jack’s face was still twisted in some sort of embarrassed grimace when Bitty got back to him. Still, Bitty couldn’t help but smile as he handed Jack the paper. “I haven’t proofread this, but I figured if I’m helping you, you could do that for me,” he said to Jack, who only nodded. 

“Sure,” Jack said, forcing a small smile. “Thanks, Bittle.” 

Bitty would take that smile and run with it. “No problem!” he said, shrugging before finally closing the door after Jack left. 

When he finally got back to his computer, his Twitter mentions were moving faster than Bitty had ever seen before. Most people were curious as to who had interrupted and what they wanted, but some still insisted that he finish explaining what the hell made cobbler so different from pie.

“That was just Jack, he needed to take a look at my paper,” he told the camera, shrugging it off like it was no big deal. 

Just then, he heard the same two rasps on his door from earlier, followed by the quiet creak of it opening. Bitty rolled his eyes, not even turning. “Yes, Jack?” 

“Are you still up for Annie's later? My treat,” Jack said from where his head was poking into the room.

Bitty had to steel himself before turning around to look at him. _Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush, it’s nothing, this is normal._ “Sure,” he shrugged cooly. But he could feel the heat rising up to his cheeks.

“‘Swawesome.” Jack smiled softly before closing the door again.

When he went back to reading through his mentions for the next question to answer, one particular query caught his eye. _Do you have a cute boyfriend you’re hiding from us?_

Despite himself, Bitty couldn't help but sigh out loud. _God, I wish._

* * *

“Oh, and… I started seeing someone.”

Bitty was talking animatedly at his webcam, unable to stop the rush of happiness he felt at the thought of his boyfriend, at the the thought of telling the world he had a wonderful boyfriend. 

Well… He couldn’t exactly divulge too many details, but at least there’s that?

“I’m not going to vlog about him much—he likes to keep pretty private, but…” He sighed dreamily, picturing pale blue eyes and ridiculous boyband bangs. “And y’all, I _know_ it sounds silly but he’s _so_ easy to talk to—”

Bitty got abruptly cut off by Beyonce blasting from his phone, singing about being surrounded by an embrace. He couldn’t even help the smile that appeared on his face. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered under his breath, before swiping the screen to accept the call. “Hi, honey!”

“Hey,” Jack said, sounding excited. “Wait, sorry, were you filming?”

Bitty’s grin grew wider at the sound of Jack’s voice. “I was, but it’s fine, I can edit it! What’s up?” 

“Yeah, I remembered where Shits put the basement key. He taped it under the couch after that graduation kegster.”

Bitty groaned. “Why would he even—”

“Because it’s Shitty,” Jack chuckled on the other side of the line.

Bitty sighed. That was true. “He totally would, too.” 

“Hah, exactly.”

“Okay, thanks, sweetheart. I’ll just have Chowder get it for me, then. Lord knows I am _not_ touching the underside of that god-forsaken couch.” Bitty shuddered at the thought.

He heard Jack laugh heartily. “Okay, bye, Bits. Lo—”

“BIG SMILE FOR ZIMMBONI!” A booming voice suddenly shouted, the sheer volume of which causing Bitty to jerk the phone away from his ear.

“Jack?” he called out, but it seemed as if someone had maybe taken Jack’s phone, or at least distracted him enough to move his phone away.

“Your girl, huh?” Bitty heard the same booming voice from earlier tease, except it was a little softer, like the owner had been walking away. “Shows on face!”

“Hah, yeah.” Jack’s voice this time. “My girl,” he said half-heartedly in reply to the voice. 

Bitty blanched, because that stung a little, how could it not, and proceeded to mentally kick himself for doing so. He knew what he was getting into when he started this with Jack. He knew he was going to have to sacrifice. He knew the situation was serious.

That didn’t mean he didn’t resent it sometimes.

“I am so sorry, Bits,” Jack sighed into the phone, into Bitty’s ear. “If I could just tell them...”

Bitty shook his head as if Jack could see him. “Honey, it’s fine. I understand. Don’t worry about it,” he assured him. “This isn’t your fault, you hear me, mister?”

“I hear you,” Jack confirmed. “Okay. Tell Chowder good luck with the key. I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart,” Bitty said back automatically. Because he did, even though sometimes it hurt.

* * *

Saturday was game day, and Bitty had fully expected Jack to be either too preoccupied or too much on lazer-focus mode to take much notice of him. Which was fine, because he loved him, even when his weird tendencies kicked in, and also because he also kinda-maybe-sorta needed to film something for his vlog. 

It was early, around 8 in the morning. Jack was out for morning skate, and Bitty suspected he would not be back for another hour or two. Which, again, was fine, because he had stuff he needed to do, too. 

It wasn't like he had missed his boyfriend something fierce after not seeing him in person for two weeks and only barely glimpsing his face this morning before he left for work, but. That's fine. Everything's fine. 

His viewers had become familiar with Jack's kitchen, although they didn't really know whose it was. Bitty liked to make use of it for filming when he was here because it was such a gorgeous set-up on camera. That day, he would be going through his brand-new peach walnut torte recipe for his viewers, only after it had been taste-tested and enthusiastically approved by all the current residents of the Haus. 

He had just put the meringue in the oven, maybe an hour later, when he suddenly felt a pair of arms snake around his waist and a nose nuzzling at the crook of his neck. He tensed at the sudden contact but relaxed immediately when he realized who it was. Bitty quickly turned in Jack's arms, throwing his arms around his neck and breathing into his shirt. Thank goodness he hadn't been holding anything. 

“Missed you,” Jack mumbled into Bitty's hair before dropping a kiss onto his temple. 

Instead of replying, Bitty grabbed hold of Jack's face to pull him down for a real kiss because Lord, did he miss him, too. Jack's hands moved up to play with the hair at Bitty's nape, pulling him closer still, and Bitty melted into his touch. Bitty would gladly take the weeks and weeks of loneliness and missing him if it meant he could have Jack like this, lazily making out with him in his kitchen. It made everything fine. 

“What are you doing here?” Bitty asked five minutes later, when their breaths were heavy, lips swollen red, and grins ridiculously huge. 

Jack smiled down at him, brushing his thumb over his cheek. “I don't know if you noticed, but I kinda live here.”

Bitty rolled his eyes at his dork of a boyfriend, but couldn't help his grin. “I _meant_ , what are you doing back here so early?”

Jack just shrugged, the smile still teasing at his lips. “Missed you,” he said again, and it was all Bitty could do not to swoon.

Bitty sighed contentedly instead, wrapping his arms around Jack's waist. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said into Jack's chest. “So much.” 

“I have a couple hours to kill until I have to be back at the arena,” Jack said. “Maybe we can do something, if you want we can—”

“Oh my god.” Bitty's eyes widened, pushing Jack away gently mid-sentence. It had completely slipped his mind that he was filming, and oh, would you look at that, his camera was still on!

Jack followed Bitty's gaze to the camera he had given him, the screen turned towards them, reflecting their shocked faces. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were filming…”

Bitty scrambled out of Jack’s arms to cut the footage. He walked back to the centre island, camera in hand, studying the video seriously. He angled his hold to let Jack see, and they watched together silently as the atmosphere in the kitchen did a complete 180. Bitty couldn’t help the small bitter laugh that slipped out of his mouth. “Looks like I’m gonna have to start this torte all over again,” he sighed, tone resigned. 

Jack frowned down at the screen, and then at Bitty. “What? Why?”

Bitty looked up at Jack incredulously. “Oh, honey. We have to delete this!”

Jack’s eyebrows scrunched together, almost meeting in the middle. “You can edit that last bit out, can’t you? Just like last time?” 

“Last time?”

“I called you once, I think, in the middle of a vlog? And you said you could just edit it out and that was fine,” Jack explained. “Why would you have to delete this whole thing?” 

“Jack, last time was a phone call. No one knew I was talking to _you_! But this! We can’t have this lying around, it’s too much of a risk! What if someone finds it?” Bitty whispered that last part, as if saying it out loud would prompt unwanted ears. He couldn’t bear thinking of the possibilities that would come out of keeping this video on his camera, much less on his laptop. “What if someone finds it and leaks it and—” 

Bitty went on rambling, eyes manic, listing all the ways this could go wrong. Jack’s eyes widened when he realised where he was going with this, so he settled on the most effective way of shutting him up—with a kiss. “Bits. Eric. Baby, listen to me, please,” he said, cupping his face in his hands. Bitty leaned into the contact and met his eyes. He was panting. “You don’t have to delete it.” 

Bitty looked like he was about to protest, so Jack pressed another kiss to Bitty’s lips, a little harder this time for emphasis. “If people find it, they find it,” he continued seriously, unable to stop his voice from shaking but powering through it anyway. “You shouldn’t have to go out of your way to protect this, okay? To protect me. It’s such a small thing now, but if I let it go on, it’ll only get worse for you. I can’t let that happen.” Jack shut his eyes tight, breathing in deeply before looking back into Bitty’s eyes. A montage of all the things he’d left alone in the past only for them to get worse played in the back of my mind. He decided that he would not allow Bitty to be a part of his regrets.

A heavy silence filled the room for a few seconds. Bitty’s voice was soft and full of hurt when he finally spoke. “I can’t be the reason you lose your dream. Jack, I can’t do that to you.” 

That one got Jack’s attention. “Bits, you can’t possibly think that I put hockey—I mean—You—” _You_ are _the dream._ Jack had never been good with words. He knew what he wanted to say, knew that those four words were the absolute truth, but more than that, he needed to say the right thing right now. “Eric,” he said instead, trying again. “I love you, okay? I’m all in if you are."

“Okay. Okay. Okayokay.” Bitty felt the tears sting his eyes, threatening to fall any second. He took a deep, shaky breath. “Are you sure?” he asked tentatively.

Jack nodded solemnly, making sure to look Bitty in the eyes. “I’m sure.”

Bitty nodded back, but held Jack’s gaze. “Really sure?”

“Yes, Bittle.”

“Positive?” Bitty prodded, now looking up at Jack through his long eyelashes. 

Jack, finally realizing his boyfriend was just chirping him, threw his hands up in exasperation. “ _Crisse_ , je suis sur!” he said, not being able to help himself.

Bitty took the French as a good sign and nodded again, chuckling wetly. “Okay, fine,” he sniffed. “If you’re sure.” 

Jack pulled him into his arms again, trying to tell Bitty everything he couldn’t say out loud through his actions. Bitty, in turn, wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist, wondering what the heck he did to deserve such an understanding boyfriend and sending up thanks to whichever god allowed it.

It was Bitty who pulled away first, after quite a long while, when he finally remembered what he was doing in the kitchen in the first place. He sniffed one last time and wiped his eyes, pushing at Jack’s chest. “You’re sure I can keep the footage from earlier?” he asked, one last time, just to make sure.

Jack rolled his eyes, not even bothering to answer his question anymore. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Bitty’s temple and started for his—their?—room. “I’ll be watching tape,” he called from the hallway. 

Bitty just laughed, a little mix of relief and disbelief at what just happened. “I’ll be here,” he called back, leaning on the counter.

* * *

Bitty was in the middle of editing the footage he just shot in Jack’s—well, actually, it was his now too, but he was still getting used to the fact—living room when he saw it.

Bitty had left the camera on when he went to get the bottle of maple syrup in the brand that Jack swears by so he could show it to his viewers. The living room is shown undisturbed for exactly three seconds before the camera shook and fell to the ground. 

There was a sharp intake of air and a muttered “Merde,” before the footage was finally upright again. Jack’s face suddenly appeared on his screen, the shot too close but still somehow incredibly flattering, as if he was checking to see if it was okay. He walked away slowly, being careful not to trip again.

Bitty was so shocked and terribly amused that he didn't even have time to appreciate it when Jack turned around to walk away. He ripped his earbuds out and absolutely lost it, laughing so hard he almost sent his laptop flying across the room. “This boy, I swear,” he managed in between guffaws.

“Bits?” Jack’s head popped into the doorway of their bedroom. He frowned in concern when he saw Bitty spazzing uncontrollably on their bed. “You okay there, bud?”

“You—” Bitty inhaled sharply, breathless from all the laughing, and choked out the rest of the sentence. “Tripped—on my trip-p-p-pod!”

Jack flushed furiously. “I didn’t know it was recording…” he muttered defensively. 

Bitty face was red, too, but from all the laughing. “Jack. Dear," he said trying to catch his breath. "I’ve literally never, not once, seen you trip on anything on the ice. How is it possible that you’re even worse on land?”

“Okay, Mr. Chirpy McChirper,” Jack narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend. “Who even leaves a camera unattended and _recording in the middle of the living room_?”

Bitty willed himself to calm down, slowing his breathing and suppressing his laughter until he could finally speak again. He sat up on their bed to grin widely at Jack. “Hey, you ask me to move in with you, you deal with the tripod,” he pointed out, raising his hands in the air. “I don’t make the rules, honey.”

* * *

+1 

“Jack. Sweetheart. You need to stop.”

“Stop what?” Jack asked innocently from his place by the window adjacent to their bed. He’d just gotten back from a long and tiring press conference for the Falconers’ fifth year anniversary and was dressing down to spend a relaxing day with his husband in bed. 

His husband, his poor, beautiful, blonde husband, who was sitting on the edge of their bed, getting ready to film an update for his vlog.

Bitty sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. “Just. Can you stop being so distracting, please?”

“No promises,” Jack winked at him, drawing the blinds and slowly starting to unbutton his shirt. 

Bitty sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes, but soon went back to talking to enthusiastically talking to his camera. Jack, on the other hand, took his sweet time, watching Bitty carefully as he slipped his fingers lower and lower until the shirt was undone. He proceeded to shuck it off, feeling more than seeing Bitty’s eyes on him, on the vast expanse of his chest, on his toned biceps, following down to his hands which had—would you look at that?—reached his belt buckle.

“Jack!”

“Mhm?”

“You’re doing it.”

“Doing what?” Jack looked up at Bitty, clearly feigning cluelessness.

“Distracting me!” Bitty groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

Jack shrugged. “Well, I would much rather be doing _something else_ , but…” He shrugged again, suppressing a grin.

“You’re a menace,” Bitty huffed, crossing his arms.

Jack crossed the space between them in three quick strides before leaning in to kiss Bitty’s cheek. “You love me anyway,” he said, finally leaving Bitty in peace and heading to their en suite.

Bitty had all of six minutes and twenty-three seconds to talk mindlessly to his camera about the latest news in the Phelps-Bittle Jam rivalry before Jack waltzed back into the room in just a pair of boxers, casually drying his hair with his towel.

“Jack,” Bitty gasped again, this time at the tail end of a completely unrelated sentence. “Baby, please,” he said, his tone pleading—for what, Jack wasn’t entirely sure.

“Yeah?” Jack glanced at Bitty nonchalantly. 

Bitty drew out a long sigh. He supposed he could film later—there were more pressing issues at hand. Such as the pressing issue in his jeans.

“Ugh, c’mere, you big lug,” he relented, standing up to meet Jack (who enthusiastically complied) halfway in a deep kiss. His hands slipped up into Jack’s hair automatically, pulling him down lower like he knows Jack likes. Jack hummed in approval against his lips, hands cupping his face before moving down to Bitty’s thighs and, in one fluid motion, picking him up. Bitty immediately wrapped his legs around Jack’s waist, his eyelids fluttering shut as he felt Jack’s lips trail down his cheek, his jaw, his neck. Everything felt familiar, and in Jack’s arms, he felt safe.

When he opened his eyes again, he caught a glimpse of his camera and the red blinking light coming from it. A little giggle escaped his lips before he could help it. He couldn’t believe he let this happen again.

“What?” Jack whined impatiently, looking up at Bitty.

“The camera.” Bitty cocked his head in its general direction, hands slipping down to rest on Jack’s chest. 

Jack breathed a laugh and shrugged a third time, grinning devilishly. “Leave it on.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm zimmerhomme on tumblr, come yell @ me about hockey gays


End file.
